


The Monuments of a Memory

by HolleringHawk65



Series: The Batman They Got [7]
Category: DCU (Comics), Hawk and Dove (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Teen Titans (Comics), Titans Hunt (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Jason is Batman, Alternate Universes, HANK IS NICE AND WANTS CONSENT ABOVE EVERYTHING, M/M, Peter is a protective cousin lol, lol this literally barely has anything to do with Jason but trust me it's set up for #angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 21:12:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9142390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolleringHawk65/pseuds/HolleringHawk65
Summary: In one world, Dick is angsty and Hank helps and in the other world... Dick is angsty and Hank wants to help.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wow so this has been like half finished on my docs for month and this is what I've been working on for the past 2.5 hours. Happy New Year's everyone!!! Hopefully I can write a lol more for this than I have been <3

Dick doesn’t usually do this. He doesn’t go straight to the bar and just drink; he usually doesn’t have three Cosmo’s in him. He got them because it sounded almost ironic. Jason’s _gone_ , living in another cosmos. Tim and Roy and Bruce and Alfred and Barbara and everyone else could try to get him back, but it was just-

They had already gotten Jason back once; it didn’t seem likely to happen again.

He sits at the bar, staring at his half empty glass. The blue is, was, would forever be the same shining color as Jason’s eyes. Dick swallows hard and pushes it away. When the bartender asks if he wants another, he switches to whiskey. Jason hates-- _hated_ \--whiskey. He’d say that it didn’t have _enough_ of a burn. Dick always thought he didn’t like it because it was his father’s drink of choice.

Not that it mattered anymore why Jason liked or hadn’t liked something.

Dick knocks back the finger, sets it down, and sighs.

His phone started going off in his pocket, but he doesn’t reach for it. He’s not scheduled for patrol tonight and he’ll be damned if someone asks him to take their route because they’re “close to a breakthrough.” He’s tired and sore from doing that too much lately.

\---

“Alright, Gotham reminder number one,” Hank starts off as he takes Peter by the shoulders and gets him back onto the curb. “Gotham taxi drivers _do not_ care about lights, they _will not_ stop for people like in New York, so they _will_ hit you with a second thought. So please, wait for the crosswalk sign to tell you that you can walk, so at the very least we could get them to pay for the bill.”

Peter laughs a little before he says “okay.” He’s staying with his cousin for an unknown amount of time as his Aunt May travels to South America with a group of friends. Which is totally fine, because he doesn’t know Hank that well, and Gotham is an interesting change of pace from Queens, to say the least, and he’s just really hoping that he can get over MJ rejecting him somehow. He gets to just go at his own pace for school with check-ins every other week from his teachers, so that’s another plus.

The restaurant that they go to is themed as if it were on the waterfront and not several blocks away from the bay. Hank seems to enjoy the fact that Gothamites at least have the common sense not to have a restaurant _on_ the waterfront. This is where Hank goes to after a long week or for a special occasion; he figures that Peter’s first Friday with him is a pretty good special occasion.

He’s here enough that the hostess knows what kind of table he likes, though she does raise an eyebrow at Peter. “This is my cousin,” Hank explains and she nods while Peter realizes that she thought that they were _together_ or something.

Peter glances around the room once they’ve sat down. He feels a little out of place, but that’s been the whole Gotham experience in a nutshell. His eyes land on one of the people at the bar; his hair is jet black, his clothes are casual, just a pair of jeans and a button down. He looks familiar, but Peter can’t quite place him.

“Do you know him?” he asks Hank. “I feel like I’ve seen his picture.”

He looks over at him, his eyes widening, especially when the man slams his glass down. He looks overtly intoxicated and Hank looks overtly _worried_ as he gets up and goes over to him.

\---

Dick had come here to _forget_ about Jason, even if it was only for a single night. But he can’t get him out of his head; if anything, it only gets worse as he drinks more.

He buries his fingers in his hair as he mutters “fuck.”

A hand lands on his shoulder and for a second he thinks it’s _Bruce_ or _Roy_ but he turns around and it’s _Hank fucking Hall_.

“Dick?” he says, softly. “How many drinks have you had?”

Dick recognizes the tone to be the same one that he used with Roy when he was drinking. “Just a few, I think?”

“Alright. Let’s pay and then you should join us and get some food into your system.”

“Us?” He had played third wheel long enough and-

“Me and my cousin,” Hank explains, cutting into his train of thought. “Come on.” He helps him up, bracing his arm around his waist.

Dick sighs a little louder than he meant to -- meaning that he didn’t mean to at all. Hank is so nice and solid, filled out in all the same places as Jason. His breath grazes Dick’s neck as he helps him get his wallet out and he shudders.

“Should I just take you home?” Hank means at a joke, maybe -- Dick’s brain is all fuzzy.

“No, no. You’re here with your cousin.” He looks around, trying to pick out who it is. It’s not really hard; there’s this kid sitting alone, his cheeks flushed, with the same brown hair and brown eyes as Hank. “I’ll pay for dinner,” he offers, looking at Hank, “since I’m ruining your night.”

Hank laughs and then loosens his hold on Dick, as if he just realized how familiar it made them look. “Alright, Grayson. We’ll play.”

Dick smiles. Hank’s sudden appearance had sobered him enough that he doesn’t stumble over to the table, so that’s a mini miracle on its own. Peter smiles at them and scooches over so that Dick has a little more room.

Apparently it wasn’t necessary, because Dick just moves his chair over to Hank anyways. Apparently, Dick’s a lot more drunk than anyone had guessed. Apparently, and maybe Peter doesn’t have the right to be angry, but he is, because Hank doesn’t seem upset about it.

He doesn’t know why it bothers him. It’s like he has this underlying sense that’s screaming at him that Dick is trouble, that all he’s going to do is bring Hank grief-

...But maybe he’s just imposing his feelings about MJ rejecting him onto Hank.

\---

Dick can’t remember the name of his old apartment building. He’s still been paying for his old apartment, but the four -- no, three, no, it was just a revolving door of who was in Gotham and who wasn’t -- of them have been living in Jason’s warehouse.

He doesn’t want to go there though. It’s sad with all of the books written in dead languages lying around. It’s sad because Roy has been drifting, and Dick’s afraid for him, but he doesn’t let him _help_. It’s sad because Tim shrinks away from his touch these days. It’s sad because Jason isn’t there to hold them all together like glue, to warm them all from the inside out with the love he gave them.

Peter disappears right into his room when they get to Hank’s loft. Dick is still buzzed slightly, this warm feeling spread through him because of the alcohol and the first real meal he’s had in weeks. He’s been subsisting himself on cereal and the occasional ‘food’ from Roy; he’s been avoiding the Manor. He’s gotten the feeling someone would blame Jason being gone on him.

“You can take my bed tonight,” Hank tells him as they stand in the foyer. He actually has to take Dick’s jacket off of him for him. He leans down a little bit, foreheads touching. “Are you actually drunk?”

Dick just smiles, reaching out and tugging at Hank’s jacket. “You’ll never know.”

“I heard that Bat’s kids don’t get drunk,” Hank says, smirking. Dick just thumps him on the shoulder before seemingly deciding that Hank’s chest is the perfect pillow, because he leans forward, placing his cheek against his chest.

“We do when we don’t have to worry about patrol.”

Hank wraps his arms around Dick, because he already knows that Dick isn’t going to let go of him on his own free will. He wraps his legs around Hank’s waist and his arms around his chest to make it a little easier for them, but now he’s never going to let go. Hank laughs at the thought that they’re going to be stuck together forever.

Then he sobers up in the next second. The two of them weren’t really ever friends; this is just a _phase_. Dick will probably be gone in the morning, before Hank wakes up. But in the meantime, Dick is starting to nuzzle him in earnest. He’s starting to try to undress him while keeping him as close as possible, a feat in itself because Dick is flat on his back and Hank _thought_ he had more muscle than him.

“Dick, I don’t think-”

“Please,” he cuts him off, reaching up for a kiss.

He pulls away, kneeling in between Dick’s legs. “I know that he’s gone.”

Dick falls quiet, hands dropping to above his head. “Why do you care? Why can’t we just have a nice fuck, a one night stand? We’ve always had this tension, you have to want to get it out.”

“Because…” Hank grips one of the blankets and sighs. It should be obvious. He would have thought that Dick would figure it out. It doesn’t matter though, because in the time it takes for him to even start to collect his thoughts, Dick’s drifted off to sleep, or at least he’s pretended to.

Hank untangles himself from Dick and backs away from the bed. He grabs a blanket from the linen closet and tucks Dick in. He doesn’t add anything more because he remembers that Dick would always run hot at night.

He hovers there for a second before he goes to the couch. He tries to go to sleep -- but there’s no point when the love of his life is sleeping in just the room over.

Hank sighs, rolling over and fluffing up a pillow. “Damn Batkids,” he mutters, but he couldn’t imagine his life without them.

\---

Hank Hall is a hotshot football player. He’s probably too cocky for his own good, especially as he saunters up to a man a few years older than him.

“Hey stranger, is this seat taken?”

The man looks over at him, takes him in for a few moments. “No, go ahead.”

He pulls himself up onto the stool and orders the usual micro beer that he gets from this bar. Then, he turns to the guy sitting next to him and tried to smile at him.

“How’s your day going?”

The guy laughs hollowly and it suddenly clicks into Hank’s mind where he knows this guy from. It’s Dick Grayson, Wayne heir and the face of the GCPD. Not to mention, his adopted son and Don died in the same fire. “My boyfriend dumped me and I’m off a case I’ve been working on for months because of the fucking Avengers. In short, not very well.”

“Maybe I can turn it around for you,” Hank says with a smile. It’s probably a shitty idea, because his dad is a judge, but Hall’s a common enough last name and his dad doesn’t practice in Gotham, so it shouldn’t be a huge problem. And now that he’s seen Dick, he’s thinking about Don again, and he doesn’t want to be.

Dick just smiles. It’s a playboy smile; Hank knows it well from the events he would attend with his parents.

He doesn’t give a flying shit as he and Dick pay the bartender their dues and leave. He wants this to be superficial, he wants this to stop the pain.

Hank wonders if Dick remembers that today is the two year anniversary of Jason and Don’s death.


End file.
